Hopeless
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: Independence Day is better spent among friends. Oneshot. T for language and racism.


**A/N: This is me warming up for my long oneshot or multi-chapter (haven't decided) South Park fic, so let's hope it's not horrible and that you enjoy.**

Hopeless

It was the Fourth of July, Independence Day, an historical holiday on which every teenage boy and his father had the supreme right to love their America through the use of colorful explosives, of which most Americans couldn't explain the workings if they tried. As fireworks popped and screeched down the block--as lights erupted in the sky all across the country, Eric Cartman sat on his front porch, alone, waiting for the fountain he had most recently lit to stop spewing sparks.

He swung one chubby leg over the side of stoop, double chin propped in his hand, his round face holding a pair of boredom-glazed, brown eyes.

He didn't have a father (technically) with whom to celebrate the occasion, and his mother (not so technically), who had been loving enough to at least purchase five hundred dollars worth of pyrotechnics for her son, was at the Marshes' Fourth of July Party down the road.

Why, one might wonder, was Eric not also at this party? The long and short of it was that he hadn't been invited, thanks to one Jew-rat, who, in Eric's totally unbiased opinion, wanted Stan and Kenny all to himself, just like the greedy, ginger kike he was. A few weeks earlier, Kyle Broflovski (the Benedict Jew in question) had somehow managed to convince the other boys, football fag Stan Marsh and white trash, man-slut Kenny McCormick, that "Cartman--" At least he didn't say "fatass." "--doesn't deserve to be our friend." His reasoning was, "After all the shit he's put us through, why should we waste the summer before our senior year with him?"

Even after a couple weeks of friendlessness, Eric didn't feel bad about all the pranks he'd pulled and tricks he'd played on his former "friends." At least, he hadn't felt bad until he'd realized that he had no one to help him light fuses this year, no one to laugh with when one firework went off prematurely or another tipped over and singed some of the grass in his lawn.

It was then, when he was laughing by himself, when he was hauling his fat ass from firework to firework in an attempt to light four fuses at once like he and the guys used to do, that he felt . . . lonely. His mom wasn't even there to make him a potpie or bring him a bag of chips, and it fucking sucked.

Eric heaved a sighed when the fountain finally sputtered to a stop and grabbed a couple more fireworks from the massive box by his front door, lumbering down to the street to light them.

It was a pain in the ass to get the majorly defective punk he was using to ignite the first fuse and even more of a pain to light the second. Eric was grumbling expletives to himself, huddled over the third, cylindrical explosive, when he heard the clearing of a throat a couple feet away.

He made a point to finish lighting the firework before turning to acknowledge his visitor, but when he finally made eye contact, he hoped his surprise didn't show on his face. "Daywalker?"

Kyle had one eye squinted against the brightness behind Cartman, his face illuminated by the light as he stood there with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

Cartman's brow furrowed when the Jew didn't say anything, and he glanced over his shoulder, noting that the first firework had already died. Kyle remained silent. "Come here 'cause your Jew-bitch mom doesn't believe in fireworks, Kahl?"

As his open eye darkened with irritation, Kyle's mouth formed a straight line. "I saw _your_ crackwhore mom at Stan's party." Their insults hadn't developed much since childhood.

"So?" Cartman snapped, lip curled menacingly.

Kyle exhaled and looked away, toward Cartman's house. "_So_, I--_we_ thought maybe we shouldn't make you spend a holiday by yourself."

Cartman resisted a smirk, though he still looked a little smug, satisfied that he hadn't had to come to him first. "I see."

At the snarky tone in Cartman's voice, Kyle's vision whipped back to him. "It was Stan's idea--not mine," he defended himself.

Cartman did smirk this time. "Then why are _you_ here, instead?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned his back on the brunette as the second firework fizzled out. "Just grab your shit so we can go, Fatass."

Cartman was already on his way to the porch. He was grinning fully as he fell into step with Kyle, fireworks tucked under his arm. "Why'd you really come get me?"

"'Cause Stan and Kenny don't know when to give up on a hopeless sociopath," Kyle replied without emotion.

Cartman didn't miss a beat when he suggested, "You missed me, huh, Kahl?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, right." His sarcasm wasn't quite as genuine as Cartman remembered.

As they walked, he rammed into Kyle's shoulder accidentally-on-purpose, staring ahead innocently while enjoying Kyle's glare.

The last firework outside Cartman's house stopped glowing. "I missed you, too, you dirty Jew."

Kyle let out a snort. "Fuck you."

Eric smiled. "Fuck you, too."

**A/N: Huh. Short and sweet. Take that how you will . . . Review if you like.**


End file.
